


Touch

by TruthandLies



Category: Descendants (Disney Movies)
Genre: F/F, Forbidden Love, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 03:49:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28575534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TruthandLies/pseuds/TruthandLies
Summary: Mal and Evie engage in forbidden touches on the Isle (short drabble).
Relationships: Evie/Mal (Disney)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 61





	Touch

**Author's Note:**

> Published on my previous Tumblr once upon a time and on my new [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/truth-from-lies-in-fiction) now.

_(They aren’t allowed to touch.)_

Maleficent’s eyes peek from every doorway, every window. Every sheath of darkness. 

She is the goblin who reports with cackled laugh when Mal walks Evie home from Dragon Hall, when her fingers skim the surface of Evie’s hand, an accident at first, but then linger in the space between heartbeats.

_(Love is weakness, my dear girl.)_

She is the raven who caws from atop a broken lamppost, clicking its beak with mirth when Mal, stepping with Evie down the iced-and-sludge-grey streets of the Isle, twines their hands together and rubs thumb-circles along Evie’s skin _(Just keeping you warm, E.)_.

_(Coldness and cruelty are strengths, my wicked daughter.)_

She is the Dragon-lady who wings down the street like a creature from Hades, who clenches her fist around Mal’s throat, who forces her to admit that love is weakness. The Dragon-lady who burns Evie with her cold emerald stare, threatening to feed her to the sharks. The Dragon-lady who sends her spies to report to the Evil Queen, who locks Evie in her tower without food for a week.

_(Such a disappointment.)_

But even a Dragon can’t be everywhere at once.

And on nights when Maleficent occupies herself with her raven. On nights when the Evil Queen occupies herself with her wrinkle cream. On nights when the Isle stars are almost bright enough to light the dingy corners of their warehouse, Mal meets Evie in their gang’s headquarters, in their space-between-world. Her gaze is steady, absolute – gleaming with hints of vulnerability – and she pats the mattress. “Sleep with me tonight, E?”

Evie’s heart dances. “Thought we weren’t doing that, M?” _Touching. Giving in._

Mal’s gaze drops to her hands. “Let’s just pretend that we are.” 

When she flicks her gaze back up to Evie’s, the green sparks with flickers of fire. 

The fire in Mal’s eyes does dangerous things to Evie’s pulse. “Okay.”

Together, she and Mal slip beneath the comforter. Mal scoots back into Evie’s curves. Evie slips a trembling arm around Mal’s waist. Their curves melt and mold and click into the certain puzzle that is Them.

And when Mal traces touches along Evie’s arm. And Evie burrows her face into the crook of Mal’s neck. When Mal sighs and Evie breathes in everything that is this gorgeous girl laying in her embrace, Evie is certain of just one thing: This isn’t pretend.

And so she gives in for just a moment. She kisses the curve of Mal’s neck, savoring the sound Mal makes when she sighs her name.

_(They aren’t allowed to touch. But sometimes, they do.)_


End file.
